The Ronin
by Fiddle45
Summary: The Dark sign brands the ronin undead, and so she shall be lead far from the East through the Great Swamp to the North where undead are corralled and locked away to await the end of the world...this is her story. This story follows a Dark Souls character I recently created, she quickly became one of the most enjoyable characters I have ever created for a Dark Souls playthrough.


**The Ronin**

"In the age of ancients,

the world was unformed, shrouded by fog.

A land of grey crags, archtrees, and everlasting dragons.

But then there was fire.

And with fire, came disparity.

Hot and cold,

life and death,

and of course... Light and Dark.

Then, from the dark, They came,

and found the Souls of Lords within the flame.

Nito, the first of the dead,

the Witch of Izalith, and her Daughters of Chaos,

Gwyn, the Lord of Sunlight, and his faithful knights,

and the furtive pygmy, so easily forgotten.

With the Strength of Lords, they challenged the dragons.

Gwyn's mighty bolts peeled apart their stone scales.

The witches weaved great firestorms.

Nito unleashed a miasma of death and disease.

And Seath the Scaleless betrayed his own,

and the dragons were no more.

Thus began the Age of Fire.

But soon, the flames will fade, and only Dark will remain.

Even now, there are only embers,

and man sees not light, but only endless nights.

And amongst the living are seen, carriers of the accursed Darksign.

Yes, indeed.

The Darksign brands the Undead.

And in this land,

the Undead are corralled and led to the north,

where they are locked away, to await the end of the world.

...This is your fate."

 **Undead Asylum**

A rat scurried in the corner of the cell, grabbing her attention. No not a rat she thought, no rat could stir her from the eons of utter solitude that she had endured. No, it was footsteps. She was sure of it! She looked to the ceiling, trying to spot the small square door that could only be opened from the outside. She heard the scraping of the rusty latch and saw a small ray of light pierce the dark cell. As quickly as her stiff joints would allow, she placed a hand to her eyes, in an effort to shield the long sun deprived sockets, from the light. Through the stiff bony remnants of her fingers she managed to make out a figure clad in Elite Knight armor throwing down the body of an undead, for safe keeping in the ruin. The Knight appeared to look down at the tortured soul for a moment before turning away and shutting the small metal door with a loud metallic clang that echoed throughout the Asylum.

Once darkness had returned to the cell - and true darkness it was - She noticed that the undead body had a low glow about it. Curious, she commanded her leathery joints to obey her wishes, to stand. How long had it been since she had last wished to stand? It didn't matter. She wished it now, and slowly, painfully her body responded. With each step, age dried leather cracked, and dust fell from the the wanderer's coat. Only a few steps from the motionless undead, an emotion long gone stirred within her breast… hope. A shred of humanity remained on the undead body, and with it a warmth that called to her tortured soul like a warm hearth calls to cold hands.

Leaning over to inspect the body she could now clearly see the humanity. She gingerly reached for it, almost afraid to touch it. It was so beautiful and fragile, but at the same time it emanated an intense warmth that called to her hands. This tiny seed of humanity was no bigger than a thumbnail and shaped like a teardrop. The pod itself was black with a silvery white hue softly radiating from it, only increasing its strange beauty. As soon as her fingers made contact with it she was filled with feelings, images, and thoughts from a life she had long forgotten. For a moment all she could do is stare at the glowing pod awe struck, she was sure they were fragments of the life she had led before becoming undead.

Awe turning into determination, She slowly closed her fist around the humanity until the seed-like pod popped. Warmth flooded through Ran's undead body knitting together torn ligaments inside her ravaged joints, bringing a new life to her leathery skin, and even replacing hair that had fallen out long ago. The warmth continued to surge through her body until she felt as though she were whole again on the outside, but a hollow pit remained in her breast, constantly hungering for warmth. A shrill shriek echoed throughout the asylum finally shaking Ran from her self-reflection, for the first time in what could only be described as an eternity Ran felt she had purpose, and something even greater: hope.


End file.
